


bona fide - Krii7Y

by aesmers



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Video Blogging RPF, Youtubers
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Current covid period - wear your fucking masks people!, Depression, Fear of Unrequited Love, Internal monologues and self doubt, M/M, Mentions of emetophobia, Shotgunning, Songs in chapter titles, Themes of suicidal tendencies, They're gay your honor, Weed, mentions of dissasociation, no beta we die like gamers, non-established relationship, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesmers/pseuds/aesmers
Summary: Better known as “ genuine; real .”Heisreal. There was no disputing that. Fighting your inner demons and constant existential dread, what do you do when you realise the one and hopeful ray of sunshine you love, resides in your best friends smile?You fight it, obviously.[ PREV NAMED: ‘ YEAH RIGHT ’ ]
Relationships: John | KryozGaming/SMii7Y
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	1. ; YEAH RIGHT - joji

[[ Yeah Right ]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tG7wLK4aAOE)  
___

Being away from home for two weeks. It couldn’t be _that_ bad when you’re with your best friend. 

Right?

Well, that’s what Jaren initially thought. 

He gazed out the fogged-up kitchen window with a hefty sigh. Taking a sip of his lukewarm tea, he shivered into his tight-knit jumper. It was certainly a chilly morning, nothing he wasn’t use to though. 

Thanksgiving was slowly creeping up, he wouldn’t be home for it. Well, he didn't even celebrate it to begin with, being Canadian and all.

While on the other hand, being known for his screen name, Kryoz, was supposedly asleep upstairs. Jaren knew him as his best friend. The same guy who changed Jaren's life, being an online presence, for the better.

With their unique, in sync and chaotic chemistry, they became inseparable partners in crime.

Weeks ago, Jaren’s plan was to visit John. Ever since the pandemic hit, they hadn’t seen each other in person, it felt like centuries had passed. Truth be told, the last time they’ve seen each other was that year at PAX 2020. 

Sometimes you just can't keep away from your internet-husband for very long. After the first two days upon Jaren's arrival, everything was going fantastic.

That was until the former developed a strange cough and a running fever. 

It rose concerns, obviously. Despite both of then being quarantined and abiding social distancing quite strictly, John went to get swabbed. With justifiable concerns, Jaren was suggested to isolate for two weeks at the very least with John.

In good faith, John simply flipped off the non-existent being within the living room, parroting: “God hasn’t taken me yet, so Covid won’t make me it’s bitch, _yet._.” 

Jaren found himself completely deflated and wheezed in laughter.

They needed to make sure they were both good before Jaren even thought about travelling back home.

The days have been spontaneous, they’ve been fun, relaxing. Nothing out of the ordinary. John was always fun to be around at any time of day, no doubt about it. 

It was just like any recording session they've ever had together but ten times better. No one complimented Jaren better than the mellowed-out KryozGaming himself.

John’s test, thankfully, came back negative. 

Now all Jaren needed to do was wait for a time to plan his trip home. Considering it was late November, he decided to wait out the two weeks anyway. Another excuse to stay with John longer.

They’d run absolute mayhem in John's small house while blasting music, microwaving messy nachos late at night and playing video games together. Watching some movie on the couch, whatever dumb idiots do.

You know, fun stuff.

Everything was good, at least _at first._

It started really small. John would go ghost on him on random times. Sometimes recording a couple of sessions by himself. Or not. 

He just never came out of his room out unless he needed to. However, Jaren was cool with it. He came prepared with a couple of videos backlogged, bringing his laptop with him so he can keep up with everything, maybe do some editing. Keeping himself occupied.

He knew that John sometimes just got socially distant, needed to recharge his batteries and preferred to be alone. This wasn’t anything new to Jaren.

Though, it would be a lie to say that Jaren wasn’t growing progressively more worried about John as the days slued on. The first week was over, the second started rather rough.

Sometimes good old John would come out of his bedroom with a passive-aggressive attitude, or act completely dismissive of Jaren as if he simply didn’t exist, he was a lot more deadpan than usual. More sarcasm behind it all too.

The first week was fine... but now? Jaren was starting to contemplate why did he chose to stick around and stay longer in the first place. 

Jaren really didn’t feel like leaving John like this midway the second week. He _wanted_ to stay but he was slowly running out of reasons to justifying as much.

There were also instances where John came out looking like he was high or red eyes looking all puffy as if to hide the fact he was _crying._ Or both.

Every time Jaren would attempt some light conversation, it was met with some sour one-sided jabs and shut down quickly.

An example, just yesterday afternoon.

"Hey, John. Do you wanna, _maybe_ watch a movie on Netflix or somethin’?" Jaren asked while catching John grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge. “I’ve been seeing some really cool movies pop up in my recommend—”

"Nah," was the spry, deadpan response he got. John didn't even bother make eye contact, leaving Jaren quite miffed.

"Well, uh. Okay then. What about dinner? Come on man, I didn't see you eat a single thing today."

"I ordered Chinese not too long ago, I got you some too," again. John sighed curtly.

Jaren stared back in disbelief - just watching the man across from him flick through his phone with the food delivery app blaring to life. "Got the usual stuff you like, chicken and spring rolls with some sweet chilli and sweet snaps, right?"

"Dude, John—” Jaren was trying very hard to remain calm. “Motherfucker, you could have just _asked_ me if I wanted anything.” Jaren leaned against the door frame, exhausted-looking. He crossing his arms defensively. 

“Seriously. Why are you—"

"It should be here in ten minutes," was all John had to say as he briskly walked past Jaren, not even batting him an eye. "You mind grabbing it when it comes?"

Then he headed upstairs. Silent.

John disappeared for the rest of that evening. Every time the Canadian would approach the room, John would push him away, shut the door on him or didn’t reply at all. 

Jaren hoped that this wouldn’t escalate into something akin to cabin fever. He knew that John could get socially reclined at times.

But this? This was some next level of bullshit pettiness, yet Jaren had no idea why it was happening.

___

“...Might just make breakfast, I guess.”

Jaren slowly crept back out of his recondite thoughts. He knew that John didn’t mind him clattering around the house. After all; ‘Treat it like it’s your crib my guy,’ was the common phrase John used. Maybe it would coax John to come out of his nest and eat properly. Cup noodles and Doordash weren’t fit for a balanced diet forever.

 _"Well I can sure fuckin’ try!”_ was the sarcastic undertone of John’s voice ringing in Jaren’s head. It hit him with a heavy pang of guilt. He absolutely could picture his shaggy-haired friend saying that sentence verbatim.

John has made so much progress. He was in much better shape, happier. Much more confident too. Jaren remembered how it all started rather fondly. 

Meeting him in person for the first time, talking about John’s weight loss plan, living with Kugo, exercising, taking care of himself. Leaving Texas, the whole ordeal. Crazy to think how all of this was so many years ago now.

Jaren only ever hoped that John would never revert to his old bad habits and neglect himself again. 

Truth be told, his stomach turned upside down just at the thought of it.

Eventually, Jaren turned his head towards the ceiling - he heard stomping upstairs, John was _definitely_ awake now.

As he hunted through the fridge for some ingredients, he noticed a couple of things were missing from what he recalled seeing yesterday: beer cans (four of them) a packet of salami, a whole mud pie?

_Well, that’s weird._

Ignoring it for now, Jaren pulled out the half-empty egg carton. He began humming to himself. Casually scrolling through Twitter with one hand as he took a pause here, a glance there. As he was chopping, mixing, setting the stove. 

“I’ll text John and see if he wants food.”

Wiping his hands once he’d finely diced some onion, Jaren grabbed his phone and pulled up John’s number.

...

_Ey brother, fancy some breakfast?_

...

He decided to leave it at that, for now. He pressed his thumb onto send. John would get back to him, if he didn’t? Well hey, cold omelette’s only for the fool. 

Obscure noise rattled upstairs, John was definitely alive now. Turning back his attention to wash some tomatoes, Jaren listened carefully. The music suddenly sprung to life, rather loud.

_John was blaring his speakers this early in the morning?_

_Great._

He hoped the neighbours were relaxed with this kind of behaviour first thing in the morning. There was a familiar rumble to the songs, Jaren couldn’t place his finger on it right away.

What pulled him away from his thoughts, was a buzz following up on the countertop.

“Hm?” Jaren checked the phone… it wasn’t John. It was actually from Anthony. 

_Well then. That's strange._

...

 _yo smit_  
_how's john doin?_

...

Jaren arched an eyebrow at the one-note message and slowly typed up a response, clearly confused.

...

_Morning to you too. Uhm, fine I think. Think he's probably playing csgo right now, why?_

...

Jaren realised how unsure his own text sounded, in all fairness, he really wasn’t sure how else to respond.

...

_mind if you check on him?_

_Why?_

...

Anthony took his sweet time to respond, the three-dotted bubble signalling a typed up response would appear and disappear a few times. Jaren found himself biting into the inside of his cheek for a moment with a barely audible _'shit'_ following an exhale, slipped past. 

His gut slowly clawing away at his deeper conscious was right to be worried about _something._

Jaren set the phone down, taking another sip of his tea trying to coax himself to relax, gazing outside the window.

***ding***

...

_well, i know your living situations with him now isn’t the best, the group got really concerned with him last night while we had an among us sesh_

_What happened? I missed that._

...

That broke the peace. His pulse quickened as he reached for his phone again, rereading that sentence Anthony sent. Jaren was giving his chaotic friend a chance to respond. Anthony wasn’t one to get very serious with situations like this, in fact— he’d be the one making jokes. Not instigating. 

He was a true jokester in spirit. In this case, seeing a text about John, Jaren knew that Anthony was being serious.

“What?”

...

_he sounded real sad and it didnt sound like his usual depression or edgy jokes_  
_they felt hollow with no humour behind them_

_Okay, I’ll go ask him while seeing if he wants some food in a sec, thanks Antho._

_no prob, happy early thanksgiving :)_

...

" _Really_ fuckin’ ironic that you say that." Another groan escaped him. Going back to checking messages, Jaren tapped on John’s name.

'Left on read', he stood there mumbling to himself in disbelief.

“What is up with him?”

The droning music continued to play overhead, all in a continuous theme: sad and depressing.

He tapped his nail against the countertop.

“Oh well, I guess I can be a decent cook when I want to be.” He still felt uneasy as he put the finishing touches on his now folded golden omelette while taking a small forkful to try it, gulping it down with a bit of hesitation. The mouthful felt tacky like glue in his mouth. It wasn't his fault, though, it tasted fine.

Closing the pan lid, Jaren cleaned up. Songs continued to barrage ahead and drone out one after another. Jaren started trotting down the landing and up the stairs, slowly making his way towards the bedroom door. He knocked rhythmically, loud enough and waited. If John wasn’t going to come downstairs out of his own volition, Jaren was going to force him, either way.

It was about time he got John to actually have a proper breakfast this week.

“John? You alive in their bud?” Jaren called out. The music inside was making it hard to hear but he listened closely. The lyrics became much more clearer.

___

_I'ma fuck up my life_  
_I'ma fuck up my life_

___

No response, he tried again. This time being much louder. “John? You good?”

He elongated his vowels.

___

_But you know I don't mind_  


___

Other than blaring music, there was no response. The sound of scuffling cans and someone trying to move a computer chair, with a loud grunt, followed suit.

“Dude!” Jaren called out. “You don’t sound great. You sure everything’s okay in there?”

“Ssss’fine. Mm’good.” A slurred response called out from inside. Jarren's face grew worried. 

“I’m serious. If you aren’t gonna give me a proper answer I’m going to come in.”

“MmmMNO!” That response was loud this time.

“The… the fuck d’you mean _‘no?!’_ “ he grumbled in disbelief. Jaren’s hand slid down the door, slowly turning into a fist.

“You sound— you know what? Fuck it.” Taking initiative, Jaren gently muttered to himself, pushing the door open and stumbled inside. 

The room was… a lot more of a mess than he remembered too. The beer cans from earlier? All empty atop the desk. The salami? Half bit into. Just lying there.

The pie? Still in the process of being eaten. A fork stabbed right into whatever was left.

John looked like an absolute mess. He didn’t look like he got any sleep. His face was groggy and his eyes were half-closed, clearly half asleep. Jaren instantly felt himself tense up.

“Okay, dude. What’s going on?” John stirred at the sound of Jaren’s voice as he approached his desk. His face bobbed to the side from whatever he was staring at in the monitor.

“Whaddya mean?” John’s voice gently slurred while lolling his head around his shoulders, picking at his white tee. 

He fiddled with the collar for a moment, looking back at his monitor, laughing like a child to himself.

“I’m fine dude, mmmmfiiiiine.”

“This _really_ isn’t like you.” Jaren instantly softens his voice. “I'm starting to grow a bit worried.” An audible scoff was heard at the notion of Jaren’s sediment. 

John leaned back in his chair and hiccuped. “And why do YOU care Sm- _*hic*_ Smidiot? Why are you in my room anyway?”

He could only stare in disbelief. The song continued to drone on.

__

_Never give a single fuck about me_

___

“Invasion of privacy!” Another hiccup. He tossed his head back and sighed loudly. A laugh escaped him too while slumped in his chair.

"Quit being an idiot John." Jaren tried really hard to contain a faint laugh but it left him before he could stop himself.

While John was mumbling all sorts of incoherent nonsense under his breath, Jaren stepped over the dirty heaps of clothing littered all over the ground and sat himself down on the edge of an unmade mess of a bed. Watching the intoxicated man across from him, the music hummed on.

___

_Never gonna be together, I see_

___

Staring him right in the face. Jaren sought John's bright eyes. “Did you sleep at all?” 

"Nope." John swayed his head and eyes closed, mumbling like a child in an annoyed tone.

“Why do you care?”

“Are you high _and_ drunk? What have you been doing all night?” Jaren’s voice wasn’t accusatory. It was calm. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of this since John wasn’t sober. 

“Mmmshut, the _fuck up...”_

He needed to be rational with him.

“No… and uh, I stayed up playing games, got _fuuucking_ plastered my guy, had a great time just, sitting and doing nothing. Nothing productive with my life!” Jaren pursed his lips in response to John’s melancholy ramblings.

“Like… _fucking_ usual!” With the slurred ending to his sentence, John slammed his hands down onto his desk with a loud clang. The rings certainly didn’t help ease the impact. It caused Jaren to flinch in response.

It was worrisome to see him like this. 

“Are you tired? Like, at all?” Jaren whispered, he tried coaxing him. John’s eyes flickered immediately towards the brunette.

“Mhmm?” One eye shut itself.

“Wanna go to bed?” Jaren offers gently.

John blinks “Bed?” He sounds confused.

"Yes dummy."

While all of this was going on, the current song was looped. They were stuck in a moment's silence but the lyrics bled into the moment.

He burped, “fuck you.”

“A little bit out of pocket, don’t you think?” Jaren rolled his eyes while folding his arms, eyes never leaving John.

All he got in response was _‘blah blah blah blah’_ in a mocking manner from the likes of John. Jaren sighed quietly. Of course.

___

_What you know about love?_  
_What you know about life?_

___

Jaren chuckles gently, watching John with an unknown adoration. “You look like you could use some sleep.”

___

_What you know about blood?_  


___

There was silence between them. John was slowly processing his surroundings, his monitor, his phone while fiddling with it, his speaker on the desk continuously rumbling. Trying to train his eyes onto Jaren, he then dumped his phone to the side. John stares at his hands, flexing his fingers open and closed.

He must have pulled off some of his rings while in his stupor without realising. He blinked, slowly processing what was happening. Jaren didn't need words to know that John was going through something, it was just this moment that told him perfectly that John just _needed_ company at this moment. He couldn't explain it but Jaren knew deep down.

Staring down at his creased hands from wearing the rings, gazing at his chipped, worn down polish-coated nails. John looked up to the ceiling.

___

_You don't ever pick sides_  


___

Jaren thought it was almost, cute? The way John looked. _Was that the right word?_

He looked at peace, a bit confused. John was in a hypnotic state of mind, zoned out.

_Distant._

It would be okay. Jaren knew it, it wasn’t something John couldn’t overcome. It was just in that moment. “Hey, is there a reason you’re listening to this song on repeat?” Jaren tried to change the topic, pointing to the speaker. 

The famous song by Joji, _‘Yeah Right’_ , was playing. 

God who knows how many times this has been looped, let alone this morning.

“...It’s a good song,” John mumbled softly.

“I agree. t’s a really nice tune.” Jaren grins.

John stared aimlessly, he leaned back in his chair again and ran fingers through his wavy locks. Eyes scrunched closed, John opened them again while directly looking at Jaren with contemplating eyes. “Man, you suck sometimes.” with a snort of laughter. Jaren beamed back. John was slowly coming back.

He could tell John was joking, he slowly leaned forward, while rubbing the back of his neck, trying to keep his balance and not fall face forward out of his chair.

“I know, you suck too, you big dumbass.”

“I'd prefer to suck dick more than anything right now,” John snorts, “but sure.”

Jaren was very used to these jabs between them, John was the obviously more 'queer' one of the two but it didn’t change anything. Jaren found those jokes funny and special. It was endearing between the two of them. They were really only shared like this between them.

“Sure.”

___

_What you know about life?_

___

John was self-expressive, shamelessly himself. He didn’t care about what people thought about his appearance. Jaren then thought about himself… Sure, he was a bit more on the vanilla, on the bland side of things but, nothing wrong with that, right? John still saw him as a friend. His best friend even. That in itself was the best kind of compliment. 

“Whatever, you enjoy it.”

“You sure fuckin’ bet I do brother.” John's jokester tone snorts alive again while the Canadian suppresses a smile on his face, to only start cracking into laughter, watching John slowly regain some composure and most importantly - his old self back. There was that synergy again. It was gradually easing the tension out of the room. 

Cupping a cheek with his hand while the elbow propped itself onto one knee, John sighed. Watching Jaren. With unknown adoration

“Sorry for causin’ such a stink on you lately, haven’t really been feelin' myself.” His voice was a lot more calm. He looked at Jaren apologetically.

“Nah, you’re fine. I would be lying if I was to say I wasn't worried about you at all, though.”

“Worrying, ‘bout me? S'kinda gay.” John rose a brow, in good humour.

“Only for you, in this context.” Jaren jibed back.

"Aw come on," Another hearty chuckle leaves John, "You know you love me." 

Sitting upright again. He leaned back in his chair while Jaren bit the inside of his cheek briefly.

“Anthony was also worried about you. He texted me about your game session last night.”

“Hm.” John mused quietly.

“What even happened last night John?” Jaren asked, trying to approach the topic gently.

“Well… I guess I got a bit moody. I started talkin' shit, a lot of depressing shit actually. Didn't have my funny groove on. I was trying to record and was getting irritated. So I completely disconnected him reality and felt like I was just, riding in the backseat, it felt like autopilot.”

He played with one of the few rings still on his hand, his voice slow, trying to keep up with his brain while the sobriety was showing through, “if that makes sense.”

“Mhm… Yeah, it kind of does. Any reason?” Jaren nods while thinking to himself, it was possibly disassociation.

“I dunno, I’m just tired, man.” John finally admits after a period of silence.

With that, Jaren didn't really need to ask anything else. He knew John too well.

___

_Never give a single fuck about me_  
_Never gonna be together, I see_

___

Jaren clasped his hands closed as he watched John for a moment. 

“Tired...” He whispers

“Of everything,” John finishes, whispering back. “Life.” The exchange felt like some kind of secret being shared. 

Something vulnerable was broken in John, left dangling in front of his face. Watching John grow all of those years they've known each other - this kind of 'sadness' wasn't a foreign concept to Jaren. However, he knew that it’s made John much more stronger and most importantly, so has their friendship. Jaren sighed gently.

John needed his best friend right now. He simply refused to admit it.

___

_I'm feeling like a drum without a beat_  
_Yeah, you dance so good_  
_And I think that's kinda neat_

___

As the song finally tuned out of its last few bars, John slammed a hand onto the speaker. Letting his fingers run along the edges before switching it off with a button on the back. He slumped back into his chair, rubbing his face with both hands with a muffled, grumbling sigh that echoed in his throat, Jaren felt himself stir a little. 

“Do you... want to talk about it?” he asked John with calm composure. 

“I don’t know if telling you would actually help my situation.” John laughed hoarsely. His voice sounded hollow, very foreign.

That left Jaren confused. “So that’s a no.”

“What do _you_ think? Dumbass.” John chuckled, a little broken. He sounds held back.

“That doesn’t really answer my question but sure," was Jaren’s reply. He thought about it more but chose not to pry. John sucked the air through his teeth and finally let his hands fall to his side, pulling at one of his earlobes.

“I know it doesn’t.”

_So he’s being difficult for the sake of being difficult._

"And that’s totally fine, I understand."

They sat together in silence for a brief moment before John perked up. Jaren was hunched forward, holding both his hands in a worried glance, the former, slouched back.

“Dude.” John mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“I feel _mad_ tired.”

“I guessed that.” Jaren chuckled out and watched John stir in his chair, grumbling like a moody child. “You want me to help you to bed, maybe nap time?” he teased.

“I’m not a baby, I can stand.” John countered as Jaren continued to grin watching him struggle.

“You _really_ sure about that?” Without warning, John’s arm was hoisted over the shorter ones shoulder, helping him up. “Release me, you fiend!” John mocked an aggravated tone.

“Never, my liege.” Jaren teased back as he adjusted to their adjoined body weight. 

"You're gonna fall flat on your face if you keep this up, and you know it." As John continued to protest, he was dumped onto the bed and sprawled himself out. Sighing as his chest fell and his breathing slowed down, staring at the ceiling.

“Smit.” John called out as Jaren turned around to open a window to de-scuff the room and tidy up a little.

“Can I ask a favor?”

“Yeah?” It surprised him, calling him by his nickname, to turn his attention back to John, while his face was staring directly above. “I mean, I guess it does depend on what you actually ask.”

John whispered. “Can you stay?”

“And babysit you?” Jaren responded in a joking manner, "I feel like I’m doing that already." He thought that there was no way John would want him to stay in his room and just watch him.

“No. I mean it.” John’s hollow voice returned. “Like, stay with me.”

“Okay. Uhm, well... what do you mean by that? Do you just want me to sit here in a corner and watch you like, or?” Jaren slinked one hand into his pocket while he watched John trying to process his words.

“No, come into bed with me,” John chuffed flatly.

“Wh—? Dude,” Jaren was taken aback. "Stop fucking around."

He just blinked at the bundled up mess of a man in front of him. John slowly turned his body to face him.

“Pleaaaase.” There was another low mumble. 

“You’re drunk John, you need to sleep.”

“Jaaaaareeeeeeeen.” John mused under the covers, slamming an arm into one of the pillows. His eyes scrunched closed while tossing and turning over a few times.

“ _You can’t be serious_.” Jaren sighed to himself with a worried undertone. John really was a child in spirit.

He made sure to watch John’s every move in case he’d fall out of the bed. He was dangerously close to toppling over one side. Was this what John really wanted?

“I feel lonely.” John finally admits after a couple of seconds of silence and peace. It answered Jaren's internal question.

“So you want me to just lie in bed with you and keep you company? That's it?”

“Mmm…” John mumbled with the tiniest nod while the blanket was pulled over his mouth.

There was some slight nuance to it, that suggested a smudged tone of embarrassment.

"John, you sure that everything’s alright?" Jaren gently knelt beside the bed, trying to coax some comfort into the air. Stooped beside his friend who was curled in bed, watching his breathing. John looked off while bundling a chunk of his bedsheets over himself, making a muffled noise in some form of protest.

"No," was a small voice's reply, the Canadian felt his face, his cadence, soften.

Sucking a breath through his teeth, Jaren looked away, hesitating but decided, what harm could it do? If it was to get John to actually sleep, the more the merrier. 

"Scoot over a bit, then."

He felt his guard slip, for the first time in a long time - ever so slightly.


	2. ; Out of Love - Peter Manos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. I really want to try to continue this fic and keep it ongoing. Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments if you've left them! This chapter will be a lot more focused on internal monologue and deep thoughts, keep that in mind.
> 
> (If there are any typos, I shall be going back and editing them, it's like 4 am)
> 
> _Viele Liebe! ♥_

[[ Out of Love ]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXPfKMQI4Lc)  
___

While John finally dozed off into his slumber, Jaren found himself thinking about everything that had taken place in the last hour.

John's breathing signalled to Jaren that he had accomplished his task - getting the minx himself to fall asleep. Quietly rolling onto his side, back facing John, he finally let out a heaved, an overdue sigh of relief. It wasn't because he didn't want to be here, it was simply the fact that they were _in_ this situation to begin with. 

_“John isn’t usually like this,"_ Jaren thought to himself in silence. _“I suppose I’m just—“_

He cut himself off. Was he _really_ just paranoid? He didn’t want to be overthinking this... Was John just being, well, John? 

There was something strange about all of this. John was hurt, by something. Jaren wanted to know why.

Why was he hurting?

Shuffling sounds alerted Jaren from behind, his internal monologue was cut short, John's arm had sprawled upwards and then landed on him as if he was trying to hold onto Jaren.

He instantly froze. While the shorter of the two held his breath in anticipation, John didn't utter a word. The dimmed out lighting from John's monitors, on idle, in the room were the only thing that could broadcast Jaren's perplexed face. It corkscrewed into something akin to confusion, embarrassment and reassurance.

 _"I know that he acts distant sometimes, I just wish I could understand him... better,"_ Jaren's deeper conscious slued on. 

He felt his heart sink like an anchor - heavy, yet slow. He hated how he felt. He’s known John for so many years, he should know him better by now, right? It almost felt like a sense of betrayal.

No, it’s no one’s fault. John’s just not very vocal about his emotions or his problems. 

_It’s not your fault._

_"I just wish I knew what’s going on in that crazy head of yours, John. But... do I? Do I really want to know?"_

No. No untimely thoughts today.

_Blink._

What did his therapist use to say? 

Think happy thoughts. 

Jaren closed his eyes.

“You mean so much to me," he whispered, deathly quiet. Only falling to deaf ears. He was thinking about Pax. Their late-night calls together. A small, shy smile crept onto his face. 

What would Jaren’s life be like without him?

He thought about all of the tricks, the constant laughter, gazing at fan content for hours and reading over comments from their videos together. Watching some stupid movie, getting into loud group calls with friends, cackling over some game.

John's painful smile, was the only thing Jaren could picture in his head. His eyes opened - fixed right on a specific point, on the wall across from them. A familiar, clammy sensation was slowly crawling through his entire being. First his hands, then his stomach. That familiar dreadful sense of anxiety.

_It could all suddenly disappear at any given moment. One day, you would have nothing. You could just lose it all, just like that._

He tensed his hands into fists. Painfully.

_"I don't want to lose you too."_

As if clockwork, the same sleepy arm was alive again, it coaxed itself around Jaren's shoulder - as if some powerful entity from above, heard his prayers. With no complicit action, he heard a soft mumble, go; 'thank you', peacefully. 

John was completely oblivious.

The other boy wasn’t sure what this alluded to. Jaren felt himself freeze, wondering; did John just read his mind? That was just stupid.

He was thankful for it, slowly relaxing again.

Jaren felt his heart rate slow down. He quickly felt that dark creek of pain fade away. There was something about John finding comfort within Jaren's presence that made the latter reconsider this scenario. It wasn’t that bad after all.

"Well... alright John," his eyes darted back, knowing he wouldn't be able to see anything but hopeful that John knew deep down - that he was being sincere. He cared about the former more than he even could describe. Almost as if in clockwork response, John shuffled closer, his nose barely touching Jaren's nape with an exhale which tickled the skin.

_"Sweet dreams, dumbass."_

He could picture John say those words clearly into his ear. That stupid blush was back, crawling across his chubby cheeks. 

_You’re so stupid._

___

Hours had passed, John groaned out a yawn. It was around late noon. As he was pulling himself awake, sitting up with a painful crick in his neck, he proceeds to slap himself in the face - instantly regretting that decision. One of the few chunkier rings left on his hand landed squarely on the forehead upon impact and he yelped. 

Grumbling under his breath, he stretched out an arm - to feel that the duvet next to him, was... occupied.

“Wait- what... what the fuck? Where the hell am I?" he muttered to himself, in half panic and repose. He felt the covers again, they weren't foreign. Okay, so... he looked around. John was still definitely in his bedroom. Good. 

All he could remember last night, was sitting at his desk.

Looking back down, it was just... Jaren. 

Wait, _Jaren?_

What was he doing here?

“Why is he in my..." John's mind could only race with the worst thoughts imaginable but rushed to swat them all out as quickly as they dared to come. Intrusive thoughts were not your best friend when you wake up, though guilty, he was slightly enjoying the endless possible reasons as to why Jaren was actually asleep next to him.

John instantaneously feeling like death in the one go. He screwed his eyes closed, took a few sharp breaths and eased himself.

_What the hell?_

He slowly calmed down. In place of recent events, he caught himself watching Jaren for a moment before he was fixated on the other boys soft... delicate features. The way his eyelashes curled a certain way, how the tip of his nose was just barely a tint of red like cherries, he was inclined almost to reach over and touch it, caress it, strangely.

"This isn't a dream, right?" John was mumbling to himself. He decides to slap himself in the face again- this time watching the ring finger. 

Well...

_"Ow!"_

That certainly did hurt.

He quickly flinched and looked over to see if that had awoken Jaren upon hearing the impact. Despite how much of an early bird he was, he could pretty much sleep through a war, a hard sleeper when he wanted to be. Unless it was hockey season.

John didn't want to wake him up, he wanted to stay like this... He hated to admit it. That deep desire in the pit of his soul wanted to watch this little sight, for a _long_ time.

Like a kindled little flame, letting in that soulful glow, that provided the faintest amount of warmth, small yet comforting.

Risking it, John slumped down to lie on his side, he reached over and gently rubbed the base of his thumb against Jaren's nose, it stirred his body ever so slightly - which John quickly backed away, not willing to risk being caught right in the act. How was he supposed to play that one off?

_"Huh, me? Oh yeah, just gettin' a little dirt or somethin' off you there, looked like it from the sunlight. Or what, did you expect a good morning kiss or some shit?"_

Jaren didn't move after that but it seemed like he had snuggled right back into the pillow he was hugging onto. John's heart did the most enthusiastic summersault while his smile arched up in the corners. Why was this such bliss to wake up to - despite the hangover?

John didn't know nor did he care to know, all he knew was that his best friend was still here, very much real, in his bed. Those nightmares wouldn’t take Jaren away from him.

_“Oh. Right, he's in my bed. Why was that again?”_

"Hey, Jar, hey... Jaren... You awake?" despite wanting to gaze at this rare sight for the rest of time, he knew it couldn't last forever. He rocked his body gently. Jaren seemed like he simply refusing to leave dreamland and continued to snooze on peacefully.

"Alright, fine. I'll leave you then." With a hefty grunt, John heaved himself out of bed while grumbling like an elderly man. With how heavy his body felt and failed him, he cursed his crossed-faded self from yesterday for whatever choices he made. If he could have had a conversation with his past self, he'd have some stern words.

Now depending on how far we're willing to go back... John had a lot to say on his mind.

While pondering what he could have possibly done that was so cathartic for his entire body to be in this much pain - he slowly started taking off his mattered tee, then remove the rest of his rings off his exhausted hands.

His hair, mattered into a fluffy mess, he smoothed it out as best he could. John started searching his desk for something to comb out his waves.

While he looked about the desk and walked through the mess on his floor, he gazed right at the speaker that sat perfectly straight on the worktop. He instantly was tossed back into a memory, remembering a specific event from last night.

__

 _”Everything okay John?”_  
__

His body froze. A hand clasped over the speaker. Tapping it. 

_Am I okay...?_

He pondered Jaren's voice in his head. Pursing his lips, how could be he okay? He was currently standing in his bedroom with someone in his bed that he had such an emotionally conflicting relationship with.

Someone who, in the simplest terms; wanted to spend the rest of his life with but he could never say that out loud. He could never make his true feelings known.

John finally took a moment to release his tense fingers from the gadget, picking up all of the rings he might have dropped while in his own fantasy the other night. “Sure as hell fuckin’ lucky I didn’t lose any of these bitches...”

He continued to scurry around, looking for fresh clothes and something to dump all of his trash into, until he heard the yawn.

The low voice followed John to spin around, starting to form a sentence... to be cut off with Jaren’s gaze instantly meeting John.

“Oh. Uh—”

It could also be that he had noticed that John was, well, shirtless. Jaren has half-sat up with a dazed look on his face. They both acutely watched one another until John cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” his voice sing-songs an attempt to brush the awkwardness out of the air. Jaren appreciated it, letting his laugh join in. 

“How’s the hangover treating you?”

While John fiddled with his rings, he finally spotted something clean enough to wear. “Not as shit as I thought it would be, I’ll be honest,” John grinned while finally pulling over the oversized shirt and ruffling the fluffy waves one more time. 

He adjusted his sweat pants and finally sat down into his gaming chair, both it and John let out a groan. Sighing, he seeks Jaren’s gaze.

“Was I bad?”

_Well. Sort of._

“Not really. Nah. Just a bit moody. That’s nothing new though.” With a little cough, Jaren sits himself up properly while pulling the pillow he was locked onto with him, rubbing one of his eyes open.

“Ha.” John folded his arms mockingly and tilted his head, a laugh exhaling out of his nose in an attempt to hide his amusement. He wasn’t letting Jaren take the satisfaction from joking about this situation so easily.

“My question is, why did we share my bed last night? Not that I have any objections. If you wanted to have a snuggle buddy so badly but still, the point stands.” All the while John spoke, Jaren swung his feet off the other side of the bed, nodding.

“Well, other than the fact you quite literally tried to drag me into bed with you, you wouldn’t stop pestering me and whining like a little child. So I thought; ‘Hey, why not stay with the man-baby until he passed out?’ Worked out pretty well I’d say.”

A little too well.

Another laugh, this time he didn’t try to hide it. John just sighed while leaning back into his chair again. “Please. Do tell me more.” 

Finally standing up, Jaren shook his curly dark hair out of his eyes, stretching out with a satisfying yawn. His shirt lifted, causing the trail of his back to show slightly, exposed to John’s line of sight - John instantly swallowed down the lump forming in his throat.

“All I know is that you were high and drunk as fuck,” Jaren folded his arms for a brief moment before he decided against it, it felt a little out of pocket so he tucked a single thumb... well, into one of his pockets. His other hand gesturing to and around the room.

“As you can see by the mess in here,” John followed along, acting like he was completely engrossed with Jaren’s speech. “You were kinda out of it? Nothing too bad that I couldn’t manage, and before you ask; No. You didn’t say anything stupid.”

“Okay thank god,” John sighs, rubbing his eyes closed. “Appreciate you looking after me though, thanks.”

“I was hardly going to leave you to sulk, blast music at like eight o’clock in the morning and not check on you.” Jaren rose a corner to his lips. “Tried getting you out of your funk to make you eat some breakfast but it was clear to that you weren’t having any of that.”

As if it wasn’t perfectly timed, John’s stomach let out a very enthusiastic growl. He winced. “Oh man. I could go for a mad brunch right now though, that sounds like _heaven_ dude.” Jaren thought about how the omelette downstairs has surely gone cold, it lit up an idea and he nodded at John. 

“We _could_ arrange something.”

“Huh? Well I was actually thinking about ordering some IHOP... what were you thinking?” John rubbed the back of his neck while leaning forward in his chair. 

Jaren just sighed at him in disbelief. 

“Dude. Just how much takeout, have you ordered this week alone?” Well. That did make John think for a moment, the truth was too many times.

“Uh, don’t remember?” He tried. 

Jaren just rolled his eyes while approaching John, picking up the half-eaten pie that still sat there on the end of the desk. Closing the box and looking off. “You’re not eating right, I’m sort of getting sick of just eating the same shit all week, you know? Like it’s not doing you any good either.”

John simply scoffed. “Why are you babying me?” With that, Jaren stared him right in the eyes with a very obvious ‘you being serious right now?’ face plastered all over. John instantly felt stupid for asking that. “I don’t think that needs an answer. You know perfectly well why.”

John sulked back into his chair and simply chuckled. “Sometimes I wish my mom was just as watchful with what I did as a kid.” 

They both laughed in good faith, Jaren didn’t feel like continuing that conversation as he knew that John’s family life wasn’t the best. Sure, his own parents weren’t perfect but Jaren was thankful to have the parents he did have. Supportive and there to give good advice.

“So you still wanna order pancakes or you’re willing to try at making your own food for a change?” Jaren smirked at John, watching his response as scrunching his face up in faux annoyance.

“You saying I can’t cook? I _can_ cook.”

“I’ll believe it ‘til I see it, okay big guy?” Jaren simply dismissed John jokingly as he headed towards the door with a few things in hand, any food that was leftover from last night - it was going into the fridge again. Noticing that the door was closed, John hopped up out of his chair to help the latter.

“Thanks, by the way.” John let slip quietly before stepping back, while Jaren caught that sentence but just casually grinned in response. “I feel a bit better.”

“You don’t have to thank me, stupid. Get downstairs when you’re ready, okay?” Jaren affectionately scuffed John with his elbow and hopped out into the hallway, whistling to himself.

John stood there alone for a brief moment, almost in trance. The sounds of the staircase creaking was the only thing ringing in his ears. While his face was relaxed, his brain felt fuzzed out. He felt content, he wasn’t losing his best friend. John simply let himself lean against the door frame for a moment, staring off into space. He was thinking about all of the things in his life he was so thankful for. A dream job, although stressful sometimes - great friends, enough money, his own home. 

Most importantly, Jaren. He was on the top of that list. 

“Oh yeah! You should bring down your laundry basket too. We’re gonna do some long-overdue chores.” He heard Jaren call out from down the stairs, snapping him back to the present.

“Alright _ba-by,_ will do!” John called back out with a lovey-dovey tone, dripping like honey in response. He could hear a shout of anguish bounce back after that, John simply cracked up.

Jaren wasn’t uptight with housekeeping by any means but he was able to maintain self-control when needed be. A week of being absolute slobs, with a well-needed clean up at the very end.

“...Will do.” He finally eased his final breath of laughter and stepped back into his room. He searched for his phone and found multiple text notifications pop up. His lock screen was the first thing he caught notice of, his favourite picture with Jaren. Them in a mirror selfie with the clout goggles.

It was certainly a fan favourite too.

He decided to open Twitter, despite having it muted due to the insane amount of notifications he got, he decided to tweet something stupid.

_‘I have the best friends ever :)’_

John hit send, it was on the nose, sure. However, he felt like sharing this little spark of happiness with the world, just a bit. He then also decided to play a little joke, going straight to the replies, he decided to @‘d Jaren.

_‘Oh yeah, I guess @SMii7Y’s cool too.’_

He was so lucky to have such a caring and observant best friend, despite the Tweet. It was like the perfect balance. They quite literally completed each other on a scale. “Thanks, Smitty,” he whispered to no one. 

Slipping the phone back into his sweatpants pockets, John took his time to turn off his monitors and PC.

He could imagine Jaren’s wide and goofy smile, the loud, adorable laugh he had, his pronounced cheeks. John’s imaginary hand reached out and gently caressed one of them. Would he have blushed? Or would have Jaren made fun of him? He wouldn’t have cared anyway. John hated the idea to admit that he had ‘feelings’ for his best friend. Despite his darker conscious, it was like a beaming lighthouse that stood in the middle of it all. Keeping him in line, brightening his way through the horrible storm that was his thoughts.

He didn’t want any labels on what they had, let alone with what he felt.

 _"John!_ Enough tweetin' and let's have food, dumbass." That caring voice called out from downstairs, John just smirked to himself.

It didn't matter, but Jaren did.


	3. ; 3 AM - Kamiyada+

[[ 3 AM ]](https://youtu.be/NkCv559liuk)  


The two boys kept busy throughout most of the day. Jaren was able to convince John to do some chores around the house, they blasted loud tunes and had plenty of fun. 

They decided to finally listen to their friend - bbno$’s newest track, ‘help herself.’ Jaren found that he was instantly obsessed with it. They played some games, up to their usual mischief.

Now it was finally time to relax.

The two of them sat outside in John’s backyard. Jaren sat on the wooden porch while the other stood, back against the wall, knee up. John took a hit of his vape pen and allowed the rip to flow in a steady stream of smoke, tapping the pen against his suspended knee.

The street lights around the neighbourhood were steadily turning on to match the dark landscape. They were gently being enveloped in a safe, warm and luminous glow.

Jaren simply took another swig of his root beer. 

His stubby fingernails tinkered against the glass bottle. Watching the dusk-riddled sky slowly grow darker, street lights turning brighter, all around the neighbourhood. It sent a pleasant, safe and luminous glow around them both. 

“Thanks for today,” John sighed out another stream of teasing smoke, the tendrils circling them. Jaren didn’t look at him directly but his attention was fixed on a streetlight far off in the distance

“What for?” Piqued curious, Jaren spoke up.

A humoured huff passed John’s lips unintentionally. The vape pen circled and twirled its dance between his bare, chilled fingers. John’s line of vision followed Jaren’s out into the distance, cold yet sober. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t think I do,” Jaren looked back at John without moving his head, eyes trained on the windswept hair that cascaded John’s face. 

He was still as a statue, raising his bottle to hide the shit-eating grin that spread across his face. “In fact, I kindly ask you to elaborate.”

John’s chuckle shook his entire body, looking back down at Jaren, they made eye contact.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” John walked towards the opening of the garden. He tapped against one of the suspended mason jars that would usually be used to hold candles during the summer. Oh how he wished for summertime so he could see the fireflies again... with Jaren.

“Thanks, for making this week a whole lot better.” He finished his thought aloud, tucking one of his hands into his over-jacket pocket. “It was pretty shit but today really turned everything around.” 

Jaren placed his bottle between his legs and played with the ends of his hoodie sleeves. He always found that they were too long for him. Maybe he really just had shorter arms as people say.

“You know you don’t have to thank me for that.” He finally looked up to face John who looked almost... enchanting with his back facing the street lights. Like he was glowing.

Ethereal was a good word too. 

“I’d help you no matter what time of the week it is. What are friends for, ya’no?”

John’s smirk was silent, he shut his eyes while taking a sharp inhale of the cold air, staring down at his shoes. He felt himself grow warm inside. “I know, I just felt like reminding you, y’know... just how much it means to me.” 

Jaren’s smile beamed despite the topic. It was contagious. John cursed him silently for being so effortlessly cute in this dim lighting. 

“You’ve been having a rough patch, it’s the least I can do.”

“You go all the way and beyond to look after me and check up on my depressed ass,” John took another rip, smoke exhaled out of his nose like a comical, angry bull. Straight out of a cartoon.

He popped his tongue, tasting the juice before sticking the vape back into his pocket, his toe found itself playing with a stray pebble on the ground. “I just need to remember that I don’t owe you anything for being a decent human being.” 

That got a loud wheeze as a response out of Jaren as he tried not to choke on his drink, nearly coughing up a lung.

“That is _such_ a nice thing for you to say. Totally not a back handed comment. Thanks!” He coughed out sarcastically

“Asshole.” John found himself giggling at Jaren’s reaction. It was hilarious, but he asked to make sure if Jaren was okay - his worries were quickly swept away while Jaren beat his chest with a fist, reassuring John. “I’m fine, no big. Just took it down the wrong pipe.”

“Man, and here I thought I did that often,” John mused with a cheeky wink. Jaren instantly felt his cheekbones rise into another humoured grin, still coughing with laughter but with more control this time, “Uh-huh, yeah? You wanna finish that statement?”

“Nah, nah. Don’t think I want to anymore.” They both chuckled again, John kicked the pebble to the side and stuck both his hands into his pockets.

“It’s probably seasonal depression, you know? Sometimes the weather just isn’t it and _bleh,_ ” John stuck his tongue out, comically exaggerated. “Then you feel like the moodiest motherfucker. That’s probably it.”

_You’re just naturally so good at lying right between your teeth, aren’t you John?_

John’s whole body grew stiff while watching Jaren, cluelessly down the rest of his non-alcoholic beverage. 

“Yeah, I kind of had that going on during the summer when we were in our first lockdown,” Jaren gently smacked his lips. He was getting the most out of the last few drops of his drink. 

“I thought I was gonna go crazy, right. Which is weird for me to think about. I’ve never been the super social, type? Like, I don’t go out a lot.”

John nodded to that, he knew it was true. “That was before we all started dragging you out to parties and cons, right?” He chuckled fondly at the memories with their group of friends, Jaren’s smile signalled the same feeling back. “I’m going to miss all of that, yeah. Things won’t be the same for a very long time.” 

John silently agreed with a shrug to his shoulders. He fished out his vape pen again and thought to himself quietly... before looking back at Jaren.

“Hey, you’ve ever taken THC from a vape?”

Jaren quickly turned his attention to John’s pen and then directly into his eyes. He was stunned with not being too sure with what to respond with.

“Uh... no? I’ve only ever taken edibles or smoked. Why?” He watched John fiddle with the top nozzle while scratching the back of his neck.

“I wanted to take some. I was wondering if you felt like taking a few puffs with me.” John slowly walked past Jaren and pushed the sliding back door open. The Canadian nonchalantly watched John walk into the kitchen like it was nothing and set the vape down onto the counter, hunting through his pockets.

“Hm, where did I put that bottle...” Jaren felt tense. Not that he wasn’t a fan of weed but he didn’t take it very often in comparison to John. He watched carefully, unsure.

“I dunno, after last night, you really want to have more?” Jaren’s uncertainty was justified, at least he thought so.

“Oh? Do you mean when I purposefully took too much and drank like ten beer cans? Yeah, I’m not doing that again, stupid.” John said with a bite to his voice but he chuckled while unscrewing the contents of his pen. 

“I’m only thinking about a small dose. Obviously, I’m not going to overdo it. No pressure though, it’s just an offer.”

Jaren slowly got up, dusting off his bottoms, picking up the glass bottle between his ring and index. He sighed to himself quietly but proceeded to follow John, setting the bottle aside for the trash. "Right, so how does that work?"

"It’s very simple." John says mockingly while he fishes out a little black dropper bottle and shoves it in Jaren's face, so he could ‘see it’ better. 

“What you do is you put the liquid into the vape, just like a normal pen and boom. You smoke it. It's not rocket science. Dumb bitch.” Jaren pushed John's hand away and flipped him off, to which he simply laughed in response.

“Okay, fine. I never said that it sounded complicated. You’re the bitch, relax!" While Jaren feigned ignorance for the bit, John cracked up again, grabbing Jaren's arm by the wrist, pulling him closer. 

"Don't worry." He grinned innocently, Jaren simply stared back, perplexed. 

“John-” Jaren started, the other boy simply shined a shit-eating grin in response.

“Mm? Yes?”

“Let go of me!”

“What’s the magic word?” John purred with a smirk, watching Jaren clearly struggle.

“John, you _dick!”_

His breathing had stopped in that exact moment. His eyes got lost in John's clear, beautiful ones. Jaren finally shook his arm out of John's grasp.

"You're actually such an asshole." he looked slightly miffed but... he wasn’t mad.

“Guilty as charged, I'm a _charming_ asshole,” winking at him, chuckling. Jaren could easily see the crows feet forming at John’s eyes with how hard he was trying not to laugh.

Jaren tried to stifle a nervous laugh. “Alright,” the taller boy yawned while giving his arm a quick stretch. “Let me grab some snacks and we can head back outside onto the patio."

Jaren stepped back after taking a couple of deep breaths. He watched John continue talking about where he got the THC, getting it ready amongst other things. Picking out food and drinks. His attention was elsewhere.

After a tense moment of debating what to do, Jaren stepped outside and took a sharp breath of the cold air that burned his lungs. His brain was left dazed with an unknown emotion.

_"What... the fuck was that?"_

___

The garden fire picket burned loud with flickers of ash floating into the air. John was chewing on a nerds rope, watching the fire crackle, while Jaren was sitting next to him in a garden chair too.

They were laughing about some tweets that Grizzy, Anthony and Tyler had made that were coming up on their feed, catching up with what they were up to recently. Jaren was nibbling on some chips and drinking another soda.

“Here, pass me the pen again." Although the high hadn’t really hit them, John was in a lot more of a light-hearted mood. He had decided to pull out a couple of cider cans on top of it all, not too much - he had promised Jaren that’s all he’d have. 

He gnarled into the candy rope with one hand while he went to pull the pen from Jaren with the other.

Jaren was doing just fine. It was about twenty minutes since they both had started taking hits. Nothing noteworthy has happened.

“Does it usually take this long?” Jaren asked quietly while taking another tortilla chip and munching on it with his mouth closed. While taking another puff on the pen, John absentmindedly twirled one of his locks that hung teasingly over his eye-line. 

“This is a very weak dose. About eighteen milligrams so, yeah. It’ll be a little while.”

With that confirmation, Jaren chuckled as he snuggled comfortably back into his chair. His eyes trained right onto the trail of embers whizzing into the air like a magical spell. He felt comfortable and very safe. He couldn’t help watch John from the corner of his eye. Just looking at how at peace his opposing friend was.

It was such a contrast from the 'emotionally worn down John' from the night before. It made Jaren feel a lot more at ease that they were... sort of back to normal.

They were talking again. It was like nothing had happened. John pulled out his phone and started playing a mellow playlist. It was very fitting for the campfire mood they’ve set themselves up with. 

“Say, Jare,” John started slow. He played with his nerd rope for a moment before he set the pen down between them on the table. His eyes were fixated on a knot he wasn’t even trying. Jaren responded with a little noise, his mouth was full.

“You ever heard of shotgunning?”

Jaren tilted his head and thought to himself for a few seconds, pursing his lips. “I can’t say I have. What is it?”

“What if I was to show you?” John teased jokingly.

He slowly turned his head towards John, while it leaned right against the headrest of the garden chair. “You’re going to have to explain to me what it is first before you do _anything_ to me.” John snorted out a laugh. 

John pushed his chair forward, getting closer to Jaren, picking up the pen anew. “Come on, it’s a surprise.”

“I feel like I’m going to regret this.” Jaren took another sip of his drink with another innocent chuckle. While watching John, it was clear that the latter was thinking about something. 

“...Hey, John, you good?”

John's eyes were half hooded. His eyes were tranced right at the pen, slowly twisting his lean hand from one side to another, observing every crevice on his hand to the rings, to the wrinkles in his skin. He was deep in thought. "Yeah, I'm good."

He wasn’t.

The image of kissing Jaren to pass on some smoke was branded right into his brain. John knew that it wasn’t going to leave him. No time like the present... right? What did he truly have to lose?

His best friend, maybe.

Without warning, nor a sound, John had gently reached out towards Jaren and placed his boney hand into the Canadians fuzzy curls. They felt so soft to the touch, 

John noted to himself. He felt his fingers sink and curl into them, with absolute care.

Jaren was taken aback, he didn’t pull nor push John away. They were barely half a meter apart. 

John’s gaze was to the fire, Jaren’s was seeking his eyes. 

“So soft...” he mumbled. Jaren felt his heart skip a beat. John was actually touching him. 

It left Jaren completely speechless, slowly watching John take a puff from the pen - a long drag this time, then turning his head towards Jaren and pulling himself into a kiss with the soft Canadian. At that moment, time completely stopped.

Jaren jerked in his chair unexpectedly, finally realising and clicking two and two together. Their eyes locked for that given pause in friction, before John’s eyes slowly closed. 

His tongue gently caressed its way along the ridges of his top lip, for an invite into Jaren’s mouth. To which the latter gave into, shyly.

A sensation of air, filled his mouth abruptly. Jaren was inhaling smoke from his mouth, it took a split second for the hit to really reach his system as he pulled away and started hacking up a coughing fit, all the while John slumped back into his chair, unbothered, eyes trained back towards the fire.

“John—”

“So that's what you taste like, huh...” John slowly opened his eyes while tracing his top lip, with his tongue. Eyes trained right to the fire, handing the vape pen back to Jaren, no longer having any use for it. 

They both remained quite still, that was until John reached for another Whiteclaw, snapping it open like nothing was wrong.

"I'm sorry if that... was out of line. I had to do that, at least once." The vape pen laid there slack in Jaren's palm. He was completely lost with how to respond.

"John..." Jaren slowly sat upright, leaning his arm over the armrest of his chair, trying his hardest to remain calm. The beating in his chest was deafeningly loud. 

"What is going on with you? Why... did you, do that?" Jaren was left speechless as to what just happened. Was there anything behind that scene?

John simply shrugged in response, with a one-note, flat laugh slipped past his grin. He seemed like he was in pain.

"A lot of things. I've just got a lot of problems." He flipped his hair back, running his fingers through the mess of frizz that mattered into the sweat on his forehead. He turned his head slowly. 

His gaze, caring, loving, yet conflicted. This was perhaps it, a huge gamble he was willing to take with his best friend. Just when the two of them thought everything was slowly going back to normal.

John realised through the day, that he was slowly remembering everything that happened the previous night. What happened this morning too, how they were embraced in his bed. Listening to Jaren talk in his sleep, to John letting his lips kiss the back of his neck. 

John knew what he wanted. Was he ever going to be able to get it? Who knew.

_"Why do I even try? I still somehow manage to fuck everything up, don't I?"_

"You're just my number one problem, Smit."


	4. ; After Dark - Mr. Kitty

[[ After Dark ]](https://youtu.be/sVx1mJDeUjY)  


___

There was nothing. 

Then there was a tense silence.

John’s words echoed in Jaren’s ears, in repeated faith. The embers continued to glow between them, illuminating John's face that broadcast nothing but a sense of melancholy.

The brunette slowly widened his eyes - processing what he just heard - just for them to fall. As anticlimactic as his expression was, he replied with: _“Huh?”_

Deadpan.

“The _fuck _are you talking about?”__

John froze over. Rather surprised by the unbothered tone of voice and expression, he took a long blink and stared. It was as if Jaren was asking John if he was joking.

“You’re not... bothered by what I just did?”

The situation clicked a little delayed in Jaren's brain. As the gears finally turned, he felt his cheeks implode and burst into roaring laughter.

John watched in complete disbelief at Jaren’s reaction. He faced back towards the fire and clasped his fingers onto the bridge of his nose. Groaning.

“You got to be fucking kidding me...”

“Did you honestly think—” Jaren started with a light wheeze as his hand reached to wipe a tear in his eye, “that I’d be so much as THAT bothered by you fuckin’ pressing your lips onto mine?!”

Jaren slapped down on his knee and leaned back into the garden chair, it groaned against his weight while he let out a loud _“whoooo!”_ fill the air. John felt confused but more than anything: mortified.

“I guess, I just thought you’d—” John tried to start his sentence, Jaren’s laughter simply got louder.

“That I’d get mad at you or something?” He chuckled while pulling his hand down his aching face. Taking another long sigh. 

“John, I could never be mad at you, especially about something like that. Everyone calls us a gay couple. Hell— people call me the damn _bottom_ of this relationship.”

“Which I find humiliating,” he side barred for a moment. John made a choked noise in his throat. Holding it in.

“If that wasn’t humiliating enough... anyway. I could give less of two shits with what you do.”

John felt his heart palpitate. He chuckled a bit to the last remark, was this really how it was gonna go? Was John's reoccurring fantasy to hear Jaren say; _"I feel the same way, John, my darling,"_ going to come true?

Even he knew that was bullshit.

"We have literal fanfiction of us _rimming_ each other on the internet. That's the least bad thing you could do to me." 

Well, Jaren _wasn't_ wrong there.

“We’ve read through some of that stuff for jokes, you’re telling me you’ve seriously forgotten?”

“You know what,” John pursed his lips in an awestruck manner. He did forget. John nods in agreement to the sediment. 

“You... do have a point.”

“Seriously,” Jaren proceeded to sit up and readjust his chair. He slumped right back into it, ruffling his hair. Sighing out loud. “That’s all?”

John had been dumbstruck by the revelation he was faced with— to snap back to reality; Jaren didn’t care.

While he felt his emotions flaring like firecrackers, his posture and face remained stone still. “No... no that’s not what I’m saying, dumb fuck.”

“Then tell me, what did you mean by _“I’m your number one problem”_ , huh? I mean. _Ouch_ , thanks?” Jaren folded his arms, eyebrow arched in a rightfully questioning manner.

John cursed himself silently.

“Don’t read too much into it, seriously.” John’s gaze never left the flames. He was too embarrassed deep down to talk about it.

At least right now.

Out of nowhere, John suddenly felt a hand clasp over his. “Dude, seriously. Look at me.”

He didn’t have the willpower to face Jaren but he hesitantly complied. His gaze slowly turned back to face the kind, soft-faced Jaren he knew. Even now, still being the only face that John ever wanted to see.

“I’m comfortable with my sexuality and how I feel with shit like this,” he began slowly. “No one else needs to know my business other than me.” 

Jaren, although was caring and calm with how he spoke, he didn’t miss a beat. He was making sure John heard every word he said. Confidently.

“I care about you, probably more than you could imagine. Couldn’t even begin to _describe_ how I’d feel if I was to lose you.”

“John, you’re my _best_ friend. You do understand that, right?”

John’s eyes persisted still and unblinking. That strong gaze that Jaren held him with, was powerful. He looked down at his lap, feeling ashamed and lost.

“I don’t think you understand, do you?” Jaren tried again, softly. Lovingly. His thumb tenderly caressed John’s knuckles, his stomach stirred a thousand butterflies, violently. He didn’t want this moment to end.

“...I guess I don’t.” John whispered back, weakly. He felt like he could have started crying at that very moment.

“Well, I’m goin’ to keep saying it because I want you to remember that.” John hated the fact that Jaren retracted his hand. He missed its touch immensely. 

Jaren reached for one of the Whiteclaws that John had pulled out for himself in front of the campfire, stacked against each other neatly. He had said that he wasn’t going to be drinking - but after what just happened? John didn’t blame him.

He took a sip of his own.

“I love you, John. Never forget that bud.”

He knew he wouldn’t, John would hold onto those words for as long as he would live. Craning his neck up to the sky, getting a better view of the floating sparks, John suddenly was brought back to reality with a swift memory. 

“Hey, Jaren.”

“Sup.” Jaren stared right into the fire like John was doing.

“Remember that stupid ‘Wildcast’ episode we were both on together, with Anthony.”

“Oh. You mean the infamous ‘pegging’ one?” Jaren snorts. John simply rolls his eyes with a giggle. “How could I ever forget? Shit was hilarious.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

The weed was slowly kicking in. They were both in a more mellow mood - slowly forgetting about the tension that lingered merely minutes ago. 

Jaren closed his eyes and sighed.

“...Butterflies?” he cooed, about the jeans John wore that day of the podcast, it was a fond memory. 

It took a second for John to finally click the two together. As a response, he cracked a smile but then proceeded to start swatting Jaren with the empty nerds' rope wrapper - as quick as his expression comedically changed, he was awarded several yelps from Jaren.

“Cut it OUT! You _fucking—_ ”

“You’re not funny, dumb cunt.” John replied deadpan, they both cracked into smirks and mutually sighed. John started fiddling with the wrapper.

“It was funny, fuck you." John was not planning to give the offending party the satisfaction. He replied with a cold and deadpan stare.

“Anyway, yeah. What about it?” After readjusting his jumper, Jaren tapped along the ridge of his can, changing topics. The clinking soothed his conscious.

“I sometimes think about what I said in that podcast a lot, about me being previously suicidal.” John began slowly. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. 

“I honestly have rewatched it a few times... and yeah. Joking with the whole shotgun therapy thing and whatnot.” He realised what he had just said. 

“Ironic now that I say that—” they both exchanged stifled laughter, despite the topic.

The silence this time wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. John felt his heart race in a good way. This was a great atmosphere they have created. Talking about your feelings is good.

“I guess as of recent, I was reminded about that dark time. No suicidal thoughts or anything... thank fuck. I was just, reminiscing. You get me?”

He finally looked over to Jaren. This time, the latter wasn’t going out his way to make eye contact, he was focused right on the Whiteclaw can that was tucked safely in his hands. Protectively. It was Jaren’s turn to remain silent for a moment, he replied with a very careful, methodic approach. 

“I’m glad you never went through with it.” Jaren slowly turned his head towards him, empathetic.

John just sighed, readjusting himself in his chair. He could only reply by sighing; “You’re acting so gay right now it’s infuriating.” He jeered while sipping on his can, eyeing Jaren’s reaction without even moving his head.

“You bitch.”

“Stop being such a sap then.” John cracked up again while Jaren leaned his cheek into a folded fist, leaning against it. Taking another long sip.

“I’m _trying_ okay?” He rolled his eyes jokingly while setting the pen and Whiteclaw down. He leaned back into the chair with a heavy sigh, wiping his brow down with his sleeve. 

“I think that’s enough hits for me today... Man, I’m kind of feel it now.”

“That’s fair. I sort of do too.”

John nodded slowly, taking the pen and finally putting it to rest, turned off, in his pocket.

The space between them was infinite, the words they shared could stretch to thousands upon meaning. Ineffable. John was going through a rollercoaster of emotions - which could have dipped right back into his lowest droves at any moment - but he wouldn’t allow it. He needed to remember.

He was alive and okay, he was doing well.

Jaren was not leaving his side.

“...Love you too.” John finally said after a long stretched moment silence, echoing Jaren’s sediment. 

The latter felt a soft smile return, slowly turned his attention to John, watching his movements, his tone. John simply remained deadpan as ever. He didn’t question it, finding that content smile again, he was just glad to be here.

“We’ll make it through, you’ll be okay.”

John wasn’t too sure but he didn’t question it. Something did feel like it ruptured in his stomach, however, like bile - bubbling ferociously and the feeling of wanting to throw up was suddenly there.

Without a word, John stood from his chair with a particular speed that caught Jaren’s attention.

“Hey, are you alright—” but John quickly vanished into the house, back in the kitchen.

Jaren found himself on his own two feet quickly, despite how he felt. He joined John drowning in a gallon of tap water down his gullet. As if he hadn’t seen water in days.

“John, do you need to—” Jaren quickly joined his side while rubbing some comfort into John’s back, he slowly rose back up to wipe his lips, closing his eyes. Lips tasting the back of his hand. Eyes focused on some random point of the countertop.

Oh God.

“John, _John?!”_

Jaren took a second to process what just happened. “Okay uh. _Maybe_ you should lie down.” Jaren quickly spoke up after observing how faint he looked. He made sure a hand was suspended over his shoulder in case John keeled over his knees.

While John remained silent, his hand slowly started shaking against his lip. He pulled it away, slowly reaching it towards John’s shoulder. Eyesight finding Jaren, staring him in the eyes.

“I’m... I’m fine. Thanks.” 

Jaren felt a jolt rush through him, it was that familiar feeling of warmth growing in his heart. Yet it was a concern. Like from before, when they shared the bed. Jaren instantly felt his cheeks warm-up but refused to acknowledge it.

“It’s cool dude. Do you want to move to the couch? Or your bedroom?”

John slowly blinked a couple of times, before finding himself slumping into the brunette's arms— his head flopping onto Jaren’s shoulder. He mumbled something incoherent against the soft hoodie material.

Jaren froze. His body leaning against the countertop with their given, current position. His hand never left John’s back, rubbing gently.

“I’m sorry...” Was a quiet muffled whisper but Jaren could make it out. His brow furrowed.

“You have nothing to apologise for. You are _not_ a burden, nor a problem,” he then lightened his tone with an attempt at a joke, “even if I’m your ‘number one problem’,” he scoffed.

“I still wouldn’t care.”

John cringed at that sentence. He knew that what he said was stupid, it was mean. He didn’t mean it like that, he should have never said it.

 _“Stop.”_ John muttered embarrassed.

Jaren felt his other hand reach for John’s arm, finally getting a better grasp with the other man's weight, steadying himself.

“Alright. Bed or couch John? Final offer. What’s it gonna be?” Jaren exclaimed, more firmly this time. John shrugged, not caring.

“Couch it is, it’s closer after all.”

While the two headed into the living room, a wispy and chilly gust drafted through the back door, licking up Jaren’s exposed neck and he hissed at the recoil, shaking.

John’s grip on Jaren’s hoodie grew tighter. He didn’t plan on letting go unless he needed to.


	5. ; PALACE - Brockhampton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a longer chapter!  
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> (While being posted at 9am my time with no sleep, may result to some typos lol, I’ll be sure to check back on this when I wake up and edit)

Jaren sat himself down, holding onto the others' shoulder. Making sure he didn't fall forwards.

“Do you... need anything?” Jaren quietly mused, looking back to see John's face, pale and pallid. He slowly shook his head. 

_“I need you.”_ John thought to himself guilty. He remained quiet.

Rubbing his forehead while forking through his bangs that fell directly into his eyes, Jaren sighed as he got up. His arms falling to his sides.

"I'm worried about you. Like, _really_ worried about you John." He spoke, calmly yet seldom.

John blinked painfully, knowing this would have happened. He still dreaded it with the feeling pitting him deep in his stomach. “You don't have to worry about me, seriously."

He brushed it off quite blasé, voice reading monotonous and uncaring. It rubbed Jaren the wrong way.

"Not to _‘worry_ about you?’ Motherfucker, you nearly collapsed onto your damn kitchen floor!” He derides. “I'm getting real tired of dancing around the topic."

Jaren’s voice slowly took on a much more powerful tone. It was determined, with a no-nonsense hilt. He inhaled slowly.

"Hate it or not, we _need_ to talk."

John bit his bottom lip. His arms wrapping his overcoat around himself tighter, looking away. Defeated. 

"Whatever, do what you want."

“What? I— _excuse_ me?" Jaren blinked, bemused.

John shrugged with no interest behind his words. The Canadian felt a nerve twitch. He never got angry. He wasn’t annoyed at John, he was annoyed at himself.

"I just don't care enough anymore.” John finally uttered slowly. His eyes drifted right down to the floor, right to Jaren’s shoes. “I never really have and don’t think I ever will. You _know_ how I am. It's nothing for you to get so worked up about."

No, he didn’t. Jaren knew John was lying.

“It _is_ something for me to get worked up about! I’m worried about you, _god damn_ it!” Jaren snapped. His line of sight bore straight through John dead in the eyes, his face was in a painful, scrutinised grimace. Eyes flaring up, the sheen they enlightened gave the glistening impression of raw emotion.

“We’ve had this talk over so many times, let alone in the last twenty four, _fucking_ hours. Yet you’re still gonna act like this means nothing to me? Why would I be trying so hard?”

“Smit, I’m—”

“Oh _enough_ John!”

Jaren’s hands knotted themselves into his dark curls and tugged. He was staring out the living room door, back to the kitchen. 

He was desperately trying to control his breathing to level his emotions, Jaren was slowly losing his patience. “You know what? Save it. I’m sick of pretending. You and me _both_ know what’s really going on.”

Jaren took a sharp breath and continued. He hesitated at first but, deep down he knew that something had to be done. Regardless of whether he liked it or not.

“You’re going to tell me, whether you like it or not, otherwise I’m leaving first thing tomorrow morning.” John felt his soul shatter.

_No!!_

He instantly pulled his body weight to sit up. Eyes widening in panic.

While Jaren seemed to slowly regret what he said... he refused to refute. He needed to stand his ground.

“No, please don’t say that—”

Jaren huffed, looking away. “What? Why? _Why_ not?” He folded his arms. 

“I don’t feel like you want me to be here. So why, the _fuck_ , should I even stay?” Jaren asked rigidly. He slowly returned the equally hurt expression on his face, mirroring John’s twisted frown.

“I want to stay, I really do John... but I don’t want to stay here if I feel like I’m just a fucking burden to you. Do you understand?”

He paused, taking his words slowly. John felt his heart bang in his chest with guilt like a loud drum, at every heartbeat. He felt his face burn with pure shame.

“No... no I don’t...” John whispered, his voice felt lost. Comparable to a sad child. 

Jaren felt his body freeze momentarily. He could feel his defences fall for an intermediate moment - yet he quickly fixed those walls before he caved in.

“John, I feel like I’ve fucked up something here. I feel like I’ve done something wrong and yet I don’t even know what I could have possibly done!” Jaren ruffed at his hair in frustration, slapping his hands against his sides to then raise them back into the air, confused.

“I dunno! I just, I just _don’t_! I don’t know what to think.”

Slowly calming down, John watched Jaren simply freeze in place, eyes locked together. His eyes remained unblinking while he spoke.

“This week has been a mess, you’ve been feeling shit and I get that. You’re valid for feeling that way and I’m sorry,” Jaren looked off, finally allowing his face to relax at that moment.

John’s mouth was parted, trying to find something to say yet not being able to. He had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to spill to Jaren. 

John wanted to hold him, never let go and forget about this whole mess.

“My... my emotions matter too. I feel like I’m paranoid and confused. Now _I_ feel like I’ve done something wrong to you. I fucking hate that!”

Jaren let out a very hurt, distraught laugh, caught in his throat, nearly choking on it. Staring John dead in the eyes.

“Do you— Do you _even_ understand just how much that fucks with me?”

He couldn’t. John was frozen in fear. He didn’t want Jaren to leave, yet he had no way how to express it.

He was hurting Jaren. His worst fear.

He didn’t want him to leave.

“We’re both fully grown adults. We can talk about this John, I know that’s not your strong suit but I’m not feeling fucking great either, alright?”

Jaren spoke quickly while slowly rubbing over his chest— feeling his heart pace quicken.

The weed wasn’t helping either of them. Jaren wiped his hands down the sides of his tracksuit bottoms and sighed. His voice sounded constricted in his throat.

“I don’t know what to do, okay? I just—”

“Please stay.” John finally whispered hoarsely. It felt like an iron cold grip was clamped down on his neck.

He felt retrained yet nothing was there.

“Don’t go. _Please_.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

John slowly stood up, breathing through his mouth, watching Jaren’s every move. He felt hurt at every word he spoke. It took so much will power for John to even utter a sentence.

“We... we can talk,” John croaked, slowly raising his head up. “We can do that.” 

His voice borderlines between broken, quiet yet void of emotion. It was killing him inside, having to hide his inner thoughts and let it all stay down. Yet most importantly - he made his best friend feel hurt.

That was the last thing that John ever wanted.

“I am _so_ fucking sorry for treating you like shit this week,” John slowly began while taking a step towards Jaren, trying to keep his balance. 

“I have no excuse. You’re not my therapist. I’ve been straight up just acting... like an asshole and I just need to stop. I need to cope, to move the fuck on.” Sinking his face into his palm, John’s voice finally cracked. 

“Wait... _huh_?”

A quiet sob followed.

“I don’t deserve you. I _really _don’t—”__

“Bullshit, John.” Jaren winced while cutting him off. John instantly rose his face back to him, which to his shock; his eyes were filled with tears threatening to spill.

“I made all of this shit about me and... you’re quite literally my guest,” he continued, gritting his teeth. “I don’t have a way to put this into words, I don’t dude. This entire week been a crazy realisation rollercoaster for me.”

“Realisation?”

“Yes. About myself. With who I am and what I want.” John finally whispered, taking another step towards Jaren, which he took a step back.

“Quarantines absolutely fucked with everyone’s heads. I just want this all to stop...” Jaren looked away guiltily. He understood what John meant. Everyone in the world was suffering because of this horrible pandemic.

“Spending more time with you, after being separated for so long,” he began slowly, John was staring off into a random part of the carpet. “It’s truly made me realise how much I’ve taken my relationship with you for granted.”

“Wait, what... the hell do you mean?”

Jaren’s face contorted into a very confused expression, his fists at his sides relaxed. John slowly continued.

“Can I ask you something?”

John finally looked back up, to which Jaren nodded slowly. His voice immediately dropped an octave.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

John hitched a breath, cautious. He thought about how to phrase his next few sentences carefully. The weed was slowly taking over his better judgement.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Jay?”

“...What?” He pulled a face, almost comedically monotone.

“Just _please_ answer the damn question,” John instantly raised a groan in exasperation. Indicating he wasn’t in the mood.

Jaren’s expression tilted along with his vision, looking off while staring upwards. Thinking to himself for a moment, he hummed and then closed his eyes.

“Well... I guess somewhat? I can imagine there being someone superficially perfect for you in the world. It’s a nice thought, I guess... but, why are you asking that?”

Jaren watched John crack a smile and chuckle under a soft exhale, despite the tears. He was shaking his head. Man was he hopeless.

“You are a dense motherfucker, you know?” Jaren instantly felt his cheeks flush, annoyed.

“Excuse me? Fuck off, no the hell I’m _not._ “

“Oh you sure as hell are.” John’s words slowed down, easing into a taunting manner. 

“Oh boo hoo, cry about it.” Jaren bit back, however his expression softened the moment it changed. “Is that it?”

“Yeah. That’s all, really.” John waved off Jaren’s puffed expression, red to the cheeks and looking rather miffed. 

Yet Jaren refused to confront it. He grumbled under his breath, John twisted his hand at the opening of his over jacket, needing something to fidget with.

His smile was soft, neutral. It was something that he rarely felt in his life. Utter peace yet the tranquillity of the situation meshed awkwardly with their tension. 

A very wobbly laugh followed, to which John simply reciprocated. Even in these times, they could kid around with shit like this.

“Could I get a hug?”

Jaren rose a brow, jokingly.

“Nice to see you asking for my consent with something, for a change.”

John grimaced, then scoffed. “Oh shut the fuck up dude.” They both started laughing harder. Jaren took a step forward and opened his arms by a fraction. Shaking his head.

“Yeah, sure. C’mere buddy.”

___

After several hours, they finally talked.

They talked and talked, reconciling their thoughts. 

The tension had evaporated, leaving them simply mellowed out from the high and the emotional heart-to-heart.

John was slumped over the armrest of the couch, using it as both a support and a pillow. Jaren had one knee up on the couch, sitting straight and facing forward. Neither of them were looking at the other. It was Jaren who broke the silence first.

“I’m so sorry you suffered so much during this year all alone,” Jaren slowly spoke up, his head turned up to the ceiling. “I thought that something was off everytime we called together during the months. When we filmed those podcasts... I knew you were acting different.”

John said nothing. He remembered the quarantine-edition Wildcasts fondly but juxtapositions the dark nights he spent curled in his bed in the same breath.

“...There was nothing you could have done anyway.” John whispered. His throat was failing him, growing tired by the second.

“No, I could have. I should have checked on you more, I should have called you, or text you—”

He would have spent weeks in the same pyjamas and thought nothing of it. He had no one that entire time. He would have stared at his monitor for hours, trying to find the motivation to edit, scrolling through social media was also painful, filled with the horrible things going on in the world, his country and the lives of millions.

The only person that John wanted through that entire time, was in fact, Jaren.

He blanked out Jaren’s ramblings and closed his eyes, pretending to listen. The familiar ringing in his ears pranced his attention back to the present again.

_He couldn’t have known. That’s what happens when you’re such a good liar and can deceit your friends, you waste of space._

John bit down onto the inside of his cheek out in lieu of lashing out. He was fed up of hearing these condescending self doubtful thoughts. He knew that Jaren was _right here_ with him.

He wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t be.

“...And it’s not like I’m really great at picking up your cues either, like it took me until now to figure out you were—” Jaren paused his rambling, turning back to John, watching him.

“Hey... are you asleep?”

John instantly stirred, head turned to face Jaren. “...No? I’m just listening.”

“Ah... okay, you were just oddly quiet.”

“You’re just being too hard on yourself, that’s all. Take it from me Jare, sometimes there’s just things you cannot notice until it’s too late.” John gently reassured him, all the while keeping a monotonous approach to his statement. 

“It’s not your fault.”

Jaren remained quiet while nodding, he knew that John was right.

He slowly sat up. John had pulled off his jacket and cast it aside while stretching up, yawning loudly. Dragging his hands down his face projecting his exhaustion.

“I’ll probably get ready to get some shut eye soon enough.” he looks around the room before spotting the TV remote on the floor near his foot.

“Hmm...”

“What’s up?” Jaren pulled out his phone, checking the time and his notifications in case there was anything important.

John remembered how Jaren wanted to watch some movies with him during the week... how he was such an asshole about it, not wanting to spend time with Jaren because of his insecurities.

_Because you’re such a coward._

John flinched immediately, picking up the remote and gripping onto it with force. Distracting himself.

“Hey, remember when you said you wanted to watch some shit on Netflix a while ago?” Jaren turned his attention to the remote, looked at the TV and then at John.

“Mhm. Well, yeah?” Jaren also yawned into a hand, sitting up right to get comfortable. “What, do you wanna watch something _now?_ ”

John nods eagerly, without saying a word. Jaren is taken a back but finds himself smiling small. Double checking - “Are you sure? I mean— It’s getting pretty late, we’ve been up for a while.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. We need to make up for the lost bonding time.” John cooed in a silly undertone.

“I think it’s only fair, consider it a peace treaty, you’ll have full control of the remote.” John stuck his tongue out while flipping the remote from one hand to another, setting it next to Jaren.

“Sounds like a fair trade to me then,” Jaren smirked back in approval. All while John slowly got up. Stretching.

“Want me to get some popcorn?”

“Grab the caramel kind and we’re Gucci.” Jaren nods before turning on the TV and it blared to life - illuminating both their radiant faces.

John couldn’t help stare at Jaren’s for a couple of seconds before he finally turned away towards the door. He stopped himself before Jaren could catch him in the fact, flashing a thumbs up before he left.

“You’re so fucking weird for liking caramel popcorn so much dude.” John scoffed jokingly as he passed the door. “Only psychopaths like caramel popcorn.”

“Shut the _fuck up _John!”__

Jaren screamed back as he threw a pillow in John’s general direction but missing. He quickly slipped behind the door - the pillow thumped sadly against it. John let out a guffaw of a laugh.

“I only speak the truth!”

Tonight was going to end on a good note.

___

An hour into some foreign movie with an egregious subtitle-timing ratio, John and Jaren were sitting together on the couch, with Jaren fast asleep.

John had stopped watching the movie for a little while to check up on his phone and social media. He decided to text Anthony and thank him for being worried about the previous game night they had.

. . .

_yo my man  
jiggles  
heard from Jare himself that you were asking about me, major thanks for looking out for me man, lol. hope you’re doing well. xxxx_

. . . 

In all humorous fashion, John set his phone down and sighed, stretching his arms up in the air and hands behind his head, to find that Jaren was tilting dangerously close to his shoulder.

In that moment it felt natural, John decided to slowly lean his arm down to pull Jaren closer, allowing his dark brown curls to spill all over John’s shoulder - nestling comfortably against him.

In his defence, he was letting Jaren get a more comfier sleeping position during this god awful movie.

He felt his heart buzz with something akin to euphoria. A truly feel-good moment. He felt his pocket buzz and pulled it out right away.

. . .

_anytime  
mind yourself ❤️_

. . .

John simply read the message, flipping through some of his and Anthony’s old conversations in fond, distant memory. He had some amazing fucking friends.

He just needed to show his thanks and be more grateful once and a while. All the while, John checked out the threads under his latest tweet. So _many_ of his mutual and close friends replied to it.

Especially his fans. Sending him wholesome memes in replies and wishing himself good day. He could have gotten emotional right there.

He had such an amazing community behind him. 

Lastly, he checked out the reply which mattered the most, the milk man Smitty himself. John snorted loud from his nose at Jaren’s simple, on brand reply.

A meme with a threatening aura, John just rolled his eyes before checking the replies - seeing Jaren had actually replied to his own post.

. . .

_SMii7Y @SMii7Y  
Replying to: @KryozGaming_

_You’re pretty cool too :D ___

. . .

His face instantly softened. He liked the tweet and replied with a single heart emoji. The Krii7y fans were sure to get a kick out of that.

Almost as if it was a psychic reaction - Jaren snuggled closer into John and mumbled something incoherent. John’s heart stopped indefinitely. His blood shot from cold to hot in under a millisecond.

He leaned back into the couch and sighed in the most relaxed way possible. John felt love, he felt happiness. John felt content.

This fight was far from over with his own brain but, it wasn’t a lost one. He knew his bad moods would get the best of him some days. All he could do was be thankful for what he did have, the past is in the past for a reason.

John looked down, sneaking a glimpse of Jaren’s face one more time, so relaxed against his shirt, before turning his attention back to the TV screen.

Those dark lashes seem to never loose their definitive curl.

**Author's Note:**

> [ **NOTE;** THIS IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. If the people mentioned in this fic, ever feel or show discomfort with this work, I shall remove it WITHOUT PROTEST. This is all for fun and enjoyment of their dynamic. No disrespect to these wonderful individuals!]


End file.
